Move on, just on
by SweetG
Summary: -AU, Charles/Jay- Maybe he's lived forever. Maybe everyone else appeared after him. He moves on from that, too. Thinking about the hows and whys and since whens gives him headaches.


Right now Jay is not quite sure what the fuck he is or where the fuck he stands, so he dyes his hair in outrageous colors, dresses however the fuck he feels like, and moves on.

Just, on.

It's his third or fourth lifespan, he'd guess. Maybe the fifth; it gets harder and harder to see past the two hundred years mark. After that lives get a little blurry. The fashion, the people, it all gets a bit mixed up, and he's never been that good at remembering nonsensical details.

Maybe he's lived forever. Maybe everyone else appeared after him.  
He moves on from that, too. Thinking about the hows and whys and since whens gives him headaches.

He thinks Odette is maybe like him, so sweet, so tranquil, so stuck in the fifties. Maybe those years were better to her than they were to him.

There's a lot to take in in this revolution filled world, in this speedy wheel of change. He's always liked to be chill and stay in the margins, just watch it all unravel. He's been there to quietly behold some of the most important historical happenings, like the demolition of the Berlin War. He just loves staying behind the curtains.

That made him enjoy participating in those little plays as stagecrew, as imposed as the task had been. Simply staying backstage and watching everything happen.

Stagecrew. Plays. Metis. Josh. Charles.

Charles.

There's something about that kid that makes him irrational. That hurts him in the most natural way. He's a peaceful person by all means, but Charles might be the first person he would actually want to punch in the face and... Well, just that. Because mostly Charles makes him more depressed than furious.

But the fact remains that asides from ocassionally giving him an insane urge to cry, he also angers him a bit. He is so damned condescending, even though he's just a kid and he knows nothing about the world at large. He thinks himself so able, so mature.

Deep inside there are no huge mysteries. He is just scared shitless that Josh will end up taking Metis away from him. That he'll lose both his best friend and the only person he's ever been able to really connect to.

"You are never going to beat Josh." Jay says once, surprising even himself. There's such cold rage, such a dreadful churning jealousy choking him like never before in the statement. There's the certain knowledge that Charles could have so much more if only...

He's partaken in romantic relationships before, but he's never felt like this. That is a scary development, since he's seen the way love can and will screw people over through the times.

Also, involvement of any kind when you are the way he is (eternal like knowledge) is asking for pain, and he's not up to bringing that upon himself.

Until now, at least. This Charles kid, he is different. Stupid, possessive, vindictive, but different.

Jay smokes like the cool kids did back in the day (when black and white rags told them it was in and a-okay), he talks smoothly, whenever he cares to do so. They call him shy, he feels careful.

Jay is also fucking lost. He's been lost since the first time Charles deigned to look at him with clear uninterested eyes.

Even though he knows it's an impossible thing, he keeps waiting for them to happen. Because this endless life he's been given? It should just end, somehow, somewhen, and maybe he's been forever and unknowingly waiting for this. For this Charles guy to be born, to grow up a bit, fall in love with the wrong dude, and then realise it all and just fall in pace with Jay.

To look at him, really look at him. To see past his cigs and past 'poser' and other labels. To understand that they can be so great, that Jay can teach him so much, and that he'd always place him first, give him so much of himself, care for him so much.

(Has already been doing that since the day they met.)

This is the first time he ever feels like a real teenager. Troubled, ignored, the littlest bit hollow. The first time he feels like a mortal man.

As he watches how Charles devotes his meagre days to being second fiddle, he tries to understand what the fuck he is now, what the fuck he'll become. If finally feeling love could be worth pain and downfalls means he's somehow graduated from this experiment, if it means he's ready for what could be awaiting for him if he were to die.

As Charles once again turns away from him (allowing him to taste anguish and bitterness in a way that feels new and painfully raw), he keeps making whatever a statement he can out of himself with bold clothing choices and such and wonders whether this will be just the fourth or fifth do-over, or if he'll finally just get life the way it's supposed to be and pass away like everyone else.

He dyes his hair, nurses his stupid broken heart while holding childish hopes, periodically acts like a doormat, and moves on.

Just, on.


End file.
